


Love And Trust

by Emospritelet



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV), Stargate Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anal Play, Bath Sex, Blow Jobs, Fingerfucking, Graphic Descriptions of Food, Multi, Multiple Sex Positions, Oral Sex, Orgasm Denial, Sex Toys, Shameless Smut, The Amazing Weaver/Rush Orgasm Tag Team, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-27
Updated: 2018-03-18
Packaged: 2019-03-10 04:47:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 16,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13495242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emospritelet/pseuds/Emospritelet
Summary: Detective Weaver considers Professor Nicholas Rush to be his best friend.  So when he is asked to make up a threesome with Rush's girlfriend Belle, how could he possibly refuse?FYI don't expect this to be anything other than an excuse for hot sex, the tags say it allWinner of Best Rushbelle and Best Threesome in the Rumbelle Happy Ending Awards.  Winner of Best Threesome in The Espenson Awards 2019





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I was asked to write a threesome with Rush and Weaver/Lacey from my Drinking to Forget verse, but I really, REALLY couldn't see DTF Weaver sharing. Therefore have some WovenRushbelle, in which Rush and Belle are in a committed relationship and Weaver is asked for a favour...
> 
> I had a LOT of fun writing this! There will be a part two :)

At seven in the evening, Roni’s bar was relatively quiet, caught in the lull between those having a sneaky post-work beer and those out for a Friday evening drinking session with friends.  Detective Weaver was seated at the bar, shoulders a little hunched as he leaned on his elbows, white shirt stretching across his back.  Coloured lights shone through the rows of bottled spirits stacked on shelves, reflected in the rim of his glass as he enjoyed his first whisky of the evening.  It was rare that he had a Friday evening free, his shift pattern being what it was, but whenever he did, he met up with Dr Nicholas Rush to drink whisky, talk politics and argue good-naturedly about shit that didn’t really matter.  He supposed that there were more unlikely friendships than a police detective and an astrophysics professor, although for the life of him he couldn’t think of any, but they got along surprisingly well.

They had met five years ago in this very bar, two men bonding over a shared heritage in a land which they could never quite call home, and Weaver considered Rush his best friend.  Probably his only friend, really.  He wasn’t really a people person.  Having said that, neither was Rush.  The man was an irascible workaholic who frequently spent days on end in his study solving the mysteries of the bloody universe, or whatever the hell it was he did.  Quite how he had ended up with a young and very lovely girlfriend was another mystery, and one to which Weaver didn’t have an answer.

Rush had introduced him to Belle French two years ago, shortly after they had started dating.  Belle was the university librarian, which was how the two had met, and Weaver had found himself somewhat tongue-tied at her beauty, dark curls falling around pale, perfect cheeks, blue eyes shining with intelligence and compassion.  He had soon grown comfortable in her presence, however, and had even been over for dinner a few times after Belle and Rush had moved in together.  Socialising really wasn’t something he did, but Belle made it easy, and he found himself throwing aside his usual taciturn disposition and talking with her about books and music as Rush scribbled in one of those notebooks he carried everywhere and muttered to himself.

Weaver ran a hand through light brown hair, glancing briefly at his reflection in the mirrored panel behind the bar.  His hair had more grey in it than when he and Rush had first met, his temples now completely silver.  It could do with cutting, too, the back already brushing his collar.  He wasn’t sure he could be arsed.  It wasn’t as though he had anyone to impress.  Belle had offered to set him up with someone once, but he had declined, and to her credit she hadn’t offered since, for which he was thankful.  He didn’t really do relationships.  Detectives worked long hours, frequent night shifts, and he wasn’t the most outgoing person at the best of times, all of which meant that anything more meaningful than a one-nighter was a distant memory.  He couldn’t say he missed it.

Roni stepped into his line of sight, leaning on the bar on her hands and letting one hip swing outwards.  Her hair seemed to defy gravity, sleek corkscrews standing out from her head and framing a face with high cheekbones and perfect red lips that pouted a little as she looked around the bar, her eyes like polished ebony in the light.

“I see the good Dr Rush is late this evening,” she observed.

“He’s always bloody late,” said Weaver, taking a drink, and she glanced over his shoulder at the door.

“Speak of the devil,” she said.  “Here he is.  Whisky, is it?”

“Please.”

She turned away to fetch another glass, and Weaver glanced over his shoulder.  Rush was striding over on thin, denim-clad legs, a brown jacket over a blue shirt open at the neck and silver-rimmed glasses perched on his slightly crooked nose.  He was looking harassed, long hair brushing his jawline, which was covered in salt-and-pepper stubble.  Rush was never too fastidious about shaving.

“You’re late,” said Weaver, nodding his thanks to Roni as she pushed another glass of whisky across the bar.

“I know, I know.”  Rush slid onto the stool.  “I lost track of time.”

“Situation normal, then.”

Weaver took a drink, looking at Rush over the top of his glass.  The other man was running a hand through his hair in agitation, making it messier than it already was.  He seemed even more distracted than usual, and Weaver set down his glass, licking a droplet of whisky from his lips.

“What’s up?” he asked.

“Nothing, nothing…”  Rush snatched up his glass, almost throwing the drink down his throat, and Weaver blinked.

“You might want to pace yourself, I’m not made of bloody money.”

“I’ll get the next one,” said Rush, his voice a little hoarse, and gestured to Roni.  “Another round, please.”

Roni raised an eyebrow at Weaver, who nodded, pushing his glass over.  She reached for the whisky bottle, pouring a measure into each glass, and went to serve another customer.

“So,” said Weaver, watching Rush take his whisky and cradle it in his hands as though it were an elixir of eternal youth.  “I take it your day was as shit as mine.”

“What?  Oh, the usual…”  Rush took a drink, grimacing a little.

“How’s Belle?”

Rush looked up with a start, blinking rapidly.

“She’s fine,” he said quickly, and Weaver shook his head.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” he demanded.  “You’re acting like you murdered someone and you haven’t worked out where to hide the body.”

Rush barked a laugh, pushing his glass across the bar a little way.

“Nothing quite that desperate,” he said, and hesitated before meeting Weaver’s eyes.  “I need a favour.”

“If you got another bloody parking ticket, I already told you—”

“No, no.”  Rush was tapping the glass with his fingertips.  “It’s - it’s Belle’s birthday soon.”

“You planning on proposing or something?”  Weaver took a sip of his whisky.  “About bloody time.”

“It’s not that,” said Rush, and inclined his head.  “Well, not _just_ that, anyway.”

“Go on.”

Rush hesitated again, turning his whisky glass around with nervous fingers.

“You like her, right?” he said.

“Belle?”  Weaver’s brow crinkled.  “Of course I like her, she’s lovely.  Way too good for you, but I guess there’s no accounting for taste…”

“Fuck off,” said Rush absently, and Weaver grinned at him.

“So, you’re finally gonna pop the question, are you?” he said.  “I don’t know why you’re nervous.  The girl loves you, for some reason.  I’m sure she’ll say yes.”

“That’s - that’s not what’s bothering me.”

Rush shifted on his stool, looking uncomfortable.

“For fuck’s sake, man!” Weaver growled.  “Would you bloody spit it out?”

Rush took a deep breath, leaning back on the stool a little.

“Belle’s asked me for something,” he said.  “Something we’ve never done before.”

“Oh yes?”  Weaver took another drink.  “She want you to dress up or something?  That can be fun if you really get into it.”

“She wants a threesome,” said Rush bluntly.  “So I thought I’d ask you.”

Weaver choked, sending whisky out into the air in a fine, amber spray and coating Rush’s glasses with tiny droplets.

 _“What?”_ he wheezed, his eyes watering.  Rush sighed, taking off his glasses to clean them.

“She wants a threesome,” he repeated, his thumb rubbing a handkerchief over the lenses.  “I wondered if you might make up the numbers.”

Weaver looked at him for a long moment.

“Are you taking the fucking piss?”

“No, I’m bloody not!” snapped Rush, putting the glasses back on and raking his hair again.  “This was her idea.  She’s kind of - adventurous.”

“I remember you telling me when you were drunk off your arse at Christmas,” said Weaver dryly.  “Not sure I’ll survive another rambling description of your sexual exploits, thank you.  And for the last time, I’m not lending you my fucking cuffs.”

“Oh, she bought a pair, anyway,” said Rush dismissively.  “That was an interesting weekend.”

Weaver shook his head.

“Never tell me.”

“Anyway, a threesome is one thing she hasn’t done,” Rush went on.  “You see, she’s sort of got this sex bucket list…”

“God, please don’t read it to me...”

“So, this is something she says she always wanted to try when she met the right man,” said Rush.  “Which is apparently me.  And - and neither of us liked the idea of bringing a stranger into the house, and so I suggested you, and she asked me to speak to you about it.”

Weaver wiped whisky from his chin, staring at Rush.  His heart was thumping, and he couldn’t work out whether it was the shock of the unexpected request, or the vision that had just flickered through his mind.  A vision of Belle.  Naked.

“You want me to fuck your girlfriend?” he said incredulously.

“It’s what _she_ wants,” said Rush.

“Yeah, I heard that.  I asked what _you_ wanted.”

He shrugged, his mouth working a little.

“I want to make her happy.”

“Flowers, chocolates and a bloody engagement ring not gonna cut it, then?”

Rush snorted in amusement, running a hand through his hair again.

“Will you at least think about it?”

“Oh, I’ll think about it,” said Weaver dryly.  “I’m guessing that at two in the morning I’ll be thinking about very little else, so thanks for that.  Not like I needed sleep, or anything.”

“I realise it’s a little weird—”

“Weird?”  He shook his head, and drained his glass.  “That’s one word for it, I suppose.”

Rush sighed, shaking his hair back as he set down his whisky.

“Look, there’s no one else I’d feel comfortable asking,” he said.  “Just - just think about it, okay?  You don’t have to answer now.”

Weaver stared at him, barely able to believe what he was hearing.

“I need another bloody drink,” he muttered.

He glanced over his shoulder, gesturing to Roni.  She poured them both another, and Weaver took a gulp of whisky, letting it burn its way down his throat before setting his glass down on the bar.

“So, let me get this straight,” he said, sitting back a little, fingers tapping on his knee.  “Belle wants a threesome, and you’re saying you want me to join the two of you.  This isn’t an elaborate prank, I haven’t stepped into the Twilight Zone, you actually want me to have sex with your girlfriend.  Presumably while you watch.”

“Pretty much,” said Rush, taking another drink.

“And - and you wouldn’t _mind_?”

Rush hesitated for a moment, then set down his glass before meeting Weaver’s eyes.

“I don’t know for certain,” he admitted.  “But I don’t think I would.  I trust her, and I trust you.  I know you wouldn’t try to make it into something it wasn’t, do you understand?”

“Maybe.”  Weaver gulped at his drink again.  “You do realise we’d see each other naked.  Are you sure you’re ready for that?”

“Are you that hideous?” asked Rush, with a tiny grin, and Weaver shot him a flat look.

“No more hideous than you, I expect.”

Rush rolled his eyes, and Weaver frowned as a thought occurred to him.

“I take it that this threesome isn’t gonna turn into a three _way_ ,” he said.  “Because I know we’re friends, but—”

“Ah, fuck no!” said Rush, looking alarmed.  “What, you think I fancy you?”

“Why wouldn’t you?”

Weaver grinned at him, winking, and Rush sighed.

“Fuck off, would you?” he growled.  “You get to shag Belle, that’s it.”

“I can’t believe I’m hearing this…”  Weaver shook his head.  “You don’t think it’ll make future dinners bloody awkward?”

Rush chuckled at that.

“I’d imagine we’ll either want to burn the memory from our minds, or we’ll be closer because of it,” he said.  “Belle is banking on the latter.”

He took another drink, and shrugged a little.

“I’m sure she’s right,” he added.  “She’s bloody right about everything else.”

Weaver tapped his fingers on his glass, thoughts racing through his brain.  Part of him was alarmed at the idea, but he couldn’t deny being extremely attracted to Belle.  It was a feeling he’d been trying to suppress ever since he had met her, and he had thought he had just about managed it.  Seeing her naked would undo all of that for the rest of time, he suspected.  Still, that was his problem.  There was silence for a moment, and Rush finished his drink.

“So,” he said.  “What do you think?”

Weaver threw back the last of his whisky, setting his glass next to Rush’s with a clink.

“Alright,” he said.  “I’ll do it.”

Rush blinked.

“You will?”

Weaver sighed.

“Look, are you sure you want me to?” he asked wearily.  “If you’re looking for an easy out, I can always say no.  The last thing I want is for things to get weird between us.”

Rush gave him the tiniest smile.

“See, now that’s why I trust you.”

Weaver ran a hand over his face.

“Okay,” he said.  “Let’s talk logistics.  When and where?”

“The Friday night before Belle’s birthday,” said Rush.  “And - and we were thinking that we’d book a hotel.”

“Makes sense,” he agreed.  “I’m guessing if this all goes tits up, you don’t want the memory of my naked arse in your bed.”

Rush chuckled at that.

“I’m hoping I’ll be able to wipe the memory of your naked arse from my brain completely.”

“Likewise, believe me.”  Weaver tapped a finger against the rim of his glass.  “Another?”

“God, several!”

He raised a hand to catch Roni’s attention, and they fell silent as she refilled the glasses.  She was watching them with a somewhat suspicious look on her face, as though she wondered why they were drinking so quickly and what they were discussing.  Weaver briefly considered asking her to guess, just to see how far off she was.  The thought made him grin.

“What else?” he asked.

“Well, Belle takes birth control,” said Rush.  “So we don’t use condoms.  Not for regular sex, anyway.”

“Pretty sure I’m clean, but I could get tested if you want some peace of mind.”

“Would you?”  Rush nodded.  “Thanks, that makes things easier.  One thing less to worry about if we get - uh - carried away.”

“I can’t believe I’m having this conversation,” said Weaver, shaking his head.  “Half expecting to wake up back at the precinct with my head on a pile of files, drooling.”

Rush grinned, and picked up his glass.

“And here I thought you were adventurous.”

Weaver snorted, and picked up his glass.

“Clearly not as adventurous as you two,” he remarked, and swallowed half the whisky in one.

* * *

Weaver woke the next day with a thumping headache and a mouth that felt like a badger’s arse, and vowed to himself that he would never go drinking with Rush again unless the conversation was about something other than the man’s unconventional sex life.  It didn’t help that he was on duty, but luckily the new cases were relatively straightforward, and he could spend most of the day catching up on paperwork.  His headache had cleared by midday, thanks to him ingesting large amounts of coffee, and as one o’clock approached, he tugged on his jacket and made his way outside into the cold spring air.

“Hey there.”

A familiar voice made him glance around, and there was Belle French, looking as sweet as could be in a flared coral skirt and navy shirt beneath a black coat.  She held up a paper bag from the local deli, her other hand carrying a cardboard tray with two coffees.

“I was hoping to bump into you,” she said.  “I thought we could have lunch.  There are a couple of things I wanted to discuss.”

“Right,” he said, momentarily lost for words.  “Right.”

Belle’s smile grew, and she glanced around.

“Is there somewhere we could sit?”

Weaver started, running a hand through his hair and feeling awkward.

“Uh - the benches by the park, I guess.”

He gestured across the road, and Belle fell into step beside him as he crossed.  The park was relatively empty except for a few dog-walkers and the odd child on a bicycle.  He led her to the nearest bench, and she perched next to him, perfect legs in coral-coloured peep-toes, the paper bag balanced on her knees.  Weaver took the proffered coffee from her outstretched hand, and Belle set the cardboard tray on the bench beside her and took a sip of her own coffee.  The sun was glinting on her hair, picking out red highlights.  Her cheeks were smooth and pale, her lips glistening with some sort of gloss, and he thought how beautiful she looked.

“I thought it might be useful if you and I talked,” she said.  “Before the event, I mean.  I’m so glad you agreed.  We weren’t sure that you would.”

He didn’t know how to respond to that, so he shrugged, burying his nose in his coffee.

“I hope it isn’t going to be too weird,” she added, and Weaver leaned back with a sigh.

“I suppose we’ll find out if I kiss you and he punches me in the face,” he said dryly.  “I take it kissing _is_ on the table?”

“Everything’s on the table,” said Belle, with a tiny, wicked grin that made his heart thump.  He licked his lips.

“Everything?”

Belle pouted a little.  She looked pretty doing it.

“Well, when I say _everything_ ,” she amended.  “I mean full sex, obviously.  Kissing, touching, oral, anal, toys - which we’ll provide, along with lube, of course.”

“Of course,” he said, feeling as though he was having some sort of out of body experience.

“And - and I don’t mind if you’re a little rough,” she went on.  “You can rip my clothes if you want.  In fact I think I’d like that.”

Her eyes were gleaming, her cheeks a little flushed, and he felt himself twitch in response.  He took a sip of coffee, a droplet clinging to his lower lip before the tip of his tongue swiped across to catch it.  Belle followed its path with a flick of her eyes, and he swallowed hard.  A brief fantasy flashed through his mind: kissing Belle, pushing her against the wall, grasping her shirt with his hands and tearing it open to reveal the pale mounds of her breasts...

“Okay,” he managed, surprised at how level his voice was.  “Anything that’s definitely off the menu?”

Belle pursed her lips, as though she was pondering his question.

“I think we ought to stay away from anything in the BDSM zone, for now,” she said pensively.

_For now?_

“I agree.”

“But anything else is fair game,” she added.  “Let’s take things slow.”

 _Take things slow with a bloody threesome?_  He tried to hold in a laugh and almost choked.  He took a drink to cover it, and Belle reached out to put her hand over his.  Her touch was electric, sending a surge of sensation through him.

“I really want to thank you for doing this,” she said, her eyes wide with sincerity.  “He wouldn’t have been happy with anyone else, you know.  And - and honestly neither would I.  We both like you very much, and we both trust you.  So - thank you.”

“I - uh…”  He took another drink.   _How the hell do you respond to someone thanking you for agreeing to shag them in front of their partner?_ “You’re welcome.”

* * *

On the night in question, Weaver decided to get a cab to the hotel.  He was pretty sure he’d need at least one drink to get through the evening, and he wasn’t sure they would want him to stay after - well, after they had all done whatever they were going to do.  He had showered and shaved, and was dressed in jeans and a dark blue shirt beneath a brown leather jacket.  Rush had telephoned to tell him the name of the hotel, and the room they had checked into.   _The Agrabah_ , room 622.  Knowing how fancy that particular hotel was, he surmised that the two were going all out for this birthday treat.  He only hoped it wouldn’t be a disappointment.  Or worse, ruin his friendship with them.

The cab dropped him outside the hotel’s entrance, and Weaver made his way through the ornate lobby, green marble columns flanking the reception desk and thick, patterned rugs breaking up the cream marble tiles on the floor.  He walked swiftly to the elevators, slipping inside and pressing the button for the sixth floor.  A man slipped in just as the doors were closing, clad in an expensive-looking three-piece suit, long, greying hair brushing his collar.  He nodded curtly to Weaver, fingers tightening around the handles of a black leather holdall, and Weaver nodded back.  His stomach was tight, nerves getting to him, and he hoped Rush had brought something to drink.  He was probably going to need it.

He stepped out of the elevator at the sixth floor, the man in the suit remaining behind.  Room 622 was along the well-lit corridor, its door golden-brown wood with the number picked out in brass.  Belle opened the door a moment after he knocked, and beamed as she saw him.  She was wearing a black shirt with little cap sleeves, the buttons unfastened just enough to show a hint of cleavage.  He remembered her saying that he could rip her clothes, and wondered whether this was a shirt she didn’t mind losing.  The thought of tearing it off her made him swallow hard.  Her burgundy skirt was flared, her pale legs smooth and her feet in peep-toes the same colour as the skirt.  Dark curls bounced around her shoulders, soft and shining.  She looked beautiful.

“Oh good, you’re here!” she said, stepping back.  “Come on in.”

Weaver stepped into the room, noting the plush, dark red furnishings and the large, canopied bed with its red coverlet and crisp white sheets.  He suspected Belle had chosen the hotel.  Rush had no doubt grumbled about the price and then let her have whatever she wanted.  That seemed to be the way of things.  Rush himself was standing by the dresser, a glass of whisky in his hand.  He was wearing jeans and a white shirt, a belt with a heavy buckle at his waist and his glasses perched on his nose.  He grasped an empty glass and held it up.

“Drink?” he asked, and Weaver nodded fervently.

“God, yes!”

Rush grinned at that, and turned to pour the drinks while Belle shut and locked the door.  He handed over the glass, a large measure of whisky in it, and Weaver drank half of it in one go, relishing the burn in his throat.  He threw the rest down his throat, and Rush’s grin widened.

“Steady,” he warned.  “Belle has a schedule for us.  I’d hate for you to get so drunk you couldn’t see it through.”

Weaver choked on the whisky, glaring at Rush, and shooting what he was certain was an alarmed glance at Belle.

“A _schedule_?”

“He’s teasing you,” said Belle gently.  “We haven’t planned anything, we’ll just - well, we’ll just see what happens.”

“Right.”  He held out his glass, and Rush poured him another.  “Right.  Well.  How do you want to begin?”

“Let’s have another drink,” said Rush, and raised his glass.  “Belle?”

“I’ll take some more wine,” she said.

Rush set down his whisky and reached for the bottle of wine that stood on the dresser.  He poured her a large glass, and Belle kissed his cheek in thanks.

“Let me show you what we brought,” she said, and wandered over to the bed.  A black leather bag sat at the end, and she gestured with her wine glass.

“Everything we thought we’d need,” she said.  “I doubt we’ll use it all, but at least this way there’s plenty of choice.”

Weaver had a look in the bag, transferring his whisky glass to his other hand to poke through the contents.  Vibrators in various sizes, dildos, plugs and what looked like bath toys.  He suspected those vibrated, too, and he wondered how big the bath was.  Big enough for three?  Perhaps that was the reason Belle had chosen this hotel.  There were condoms and bottles of lube, and a box of disposable latex gloves.  Even a string of beads in purple silicone.

“We have more than this at home, of course,” she added.

_Of course._

“I suppose we can decide what we want as we go along,” he said.  

“Yes, that’s what we thought,” she said brightly.  “Whatever you’re comfortable with.”

“Or nothing at all,” added Rush.  “If that would be easier.”

Belle walked over to kiss him, a blush high on her cheeks, as though she were excited.

“Thank you for doing this,” she murmured, and kissed him again.

Rush pulled her closer, lips tugging at hers, and she was grinning when she leaned back, her mouth full and plump.  She glanced over at Weaver.

“You know, you could take off your jacket,” she said, and he pulled a face.

“I need to know that I’m going to be staying first, I think.”

“We’re not going to back out,” she assured him.  “We’ve talked about this a lot, believe me.”

“Best laid plans…” he said dryly.  “What happens if I kiss you and one of you decides this isn’t right?”

“I don’t think that’ll happen, but point taken.”

“Well, maybe we should start there,” he suggested.  “If this is going to fall through at the first touch I’d prefer to keep my pants on when I get kicked out.”

Belle glanced at Rush, who nodded, and she turned back to Weaver, taking a drink of her wine.

“Alright,” she said, and set down her glass.  “Why don’t you kiss me?”

Weaver took another drink, the tip of his tongue running across his lips to catch a stray droplet of whisky before he set the glass on the nightstand.

“Okay.”

He stepped closer to Belle, feeling nervous.  She was smiling at him, but he could sense a touch of nerves in her, too.  Understandable, really.  He reached up to cup her cheeks, her skin soft as silk beneath his palms, and shifted closer.  He could smell her perfume in the air, something light and floral and feminine, and he leaned in and pressed his mouth to hers, her lips soft.  His tongue gently parted her lips, sliding inside, and Belle let out a moan of pleasure that went straight to his groin.  She tasted of the wine she had been drinking, and he groaned a little as his tongue touched hers, his fingers pushing into her hair.  A brief shiver of pleasure rippled through her, and he deepened the kiss, his tongue stroking, probing.

Eventually he drew back, their lips wet with saliva and their breathing unsteady.  Belle opened her eyes, the pupils wide and dark, and licked her lips, a tiny smile quirking the corners of her mouth.  Weaver glanced across at Rush, who was staring at them, his eyes dark and his breathing a little heavy.

“How was that?”

“That was, ah—”  Rush licked his lips.  “That was - unexpectedly arousing, if you must know.”

Belle grinned broadly, reaching out to squeeze his hand.

“Oh,” said Weaver.  “So - we’re gonna be alright, then?”

“I think so, yes.”  Rush flicked his hair back.  “Kiss her again.”

Weaver turned back to Belle, bending his head to kiss her.  He made the kiss a little harder, a little rougher, his tongue pushing into her mouth, his fingers twisting in her hair.  Belle moaned, pressing herself against him, her hands snaking beneath his jacket, exploring his chest.  Her thumbs rubbed over his nipples, sending jolts of pleasure through him, and he growled in response and pulled his mouth from hers, kissing down her neck to suck on her skin.  Belle gasped, her head rolling back, and he sank his teeth into her throat, biting down gently before licking over her skin and pulling back, his breathing hard and heavy.  Her hands slid up his chest, pushing his jacket from his shoulders, and he stepped back, shrugging it off and tossing it aside.

Belle turned to reach for Rush, pulling him close to kiss him, and Weaver watched as Rush stroked his fingers through her hair, Belle letting out a contented hum as their lips moved, their tongues teasing.  Rush kissed down her throat, tongue swirling over her skin, and Belle rose up on her toes with a moan, her hands clutching at his shirt.  She began unbuttoning it, fingers deftly pulling until it was open to his waist, her hands sliding over his chest as they kissed.  Her lips pulled at his, and she settled back on her heels as she broke the kiss, smiling up at him.

“Take it off,” she whispered.

She stepped back, turning to Weaver as Rush began peeling off the shirt, and he pulled her to him, kissing her hungrily as he felt her fingers go to work on his own shirt.  She got it open, her breathing whistling through her nose as the kiss grew harder, his tongue stabbing into her mouth, and he felt a surge of desire.  He grasped her around the waist, turning to push her against the wall, and Belle gasped into his mouth as he slid his hands up her body to cup her.  She dragged the shirt from his shoulders, tugging it down his arms, and he pulled his mouth from hers, leaning back a little to shrug out of the shirt and let it flutter to the floor.  Belle ran her eyes over his chest, her tongue darting out to wet her lips, and her eyes flicked up to meet his as his hands reached for the lapels of her shirt.  He raised an eyebrow, an unspoken question, and she nodded.

Weaver tore open the shirt, buttons flying, exposing her pale skin and the black lace bra she wore.  Belle had sucked in a breath, her chest heaving, her eyes deep blue pools in the warm light of the room, her lips full and red, excitement plain on her face.  He pushed the shirt from her, dragging it down her arms, his mouth finding hers, his kisses hard.  She shook off the shirt, running her hands up his back, and he could feel Rush step near them.  He pulled his lips from hers, stepping back to let the other man take his place, and went to retrieve his whisky as Rush kissed Belle, his hands cupping her breasts through the lace.

Belle moaned a little, fingers sinking into his hair, and Weaver took a drink, trying to calm his thumping heart as he watched.  Rush reached around to unhook the bra, making it spring open, peeling it from her and throwing it aside.  Her breasts were small and firm and perfect, pale mounds with dusky pink nipples already hard with arousal, and Weaver licked his lips as Rush bent his head to one, his tongue swirling over the peak.  Belle let her head thump back against the wall as he sucked at her, her fingers raking through his hair.  Rush slid his hands over her hips, reaching behind her to unzip the skirt, and it fell to her ankles, revealing long, pale legs and black lace panties.  She kicked off her shoes, losing a good few inches of height, but it didn’t seem to affect him, his mouth pulling and sucking at her, his hands cupping her buttocks.

Weaver set down his glass as Rush straightened up, pushing back from her to fetch his own drink, and Belle reached out, her eyes dark with desire and her lips full and red.  Her breasts were glistening with saliva, the nipples deep pink, tiny red marks on her milky skin.  Weaver leaned in to kiss her, hands squeezing, thumbs stroking over her nipples and making her moan.  Her skin was as smooth as silk, and he bent his head to her breast, licking over the taut peak, sucking it in between his lips.  Belle moaned, rising up on her toes, fingers stroking through his hair and making him shiver, and he let his hands trail down to cup her rear, squeezing her through the thin black lace.  One hand slid back around, pushing beneath the waistband of her panties, and he groaned in pleasure at the first touch of her soft flesh, the first slippery feel of her arousal on his fingers.  Belle moaned at his touch, as he rubbed at her, and he felt an urge to tear the panties from her, to rip through the lace and leave her naked.  She seemed to sense it, meeting his eyes with a heated gaze, her breath quickening, and he slipped his hand out from inside her underwear, twisting black lace around his fingers and tearing it open.  Belle let out a tiny cry, and behind him he heard Rush let out a muffled curse.

He tossed the ruined panties aside and sank to his knees, kissing his way down over her belly, lips pulling at the soft skin, fragrant with lightly-perfumed lotion as he made his way down to gaze upon her sex.  She was smooth and soft, the skin at the apex of her thighs a little darker than the rest of her, a gleam of moisture in the cleft that made him lick his lips.  He looked up at her, and she was staring at him, dark curls falling around her face, her fingers trailing through his hair.  She stroked his cheek, one thumb running over his lower lip, and he sucked it into his mouth, making her let out a low noise of pleasure.  His tongue swirled over her, twisting and stroking, and Belle moaned and parted her legs a little, her invitation plain.

He let the thumb slip from his mouth, wet and glistening, and shifted on his knees a little, moving closer, until his nose was almost touching her.  Glancing up, he could see that she was looking across at Rush, her chest heaving.  He flicked his eyes back to where she was hot and wet and ready, and leaned closer, the tip of his nose just touching her skin as he inhaled her scent.  Her breath quickened, the muscles of her inner thighs jumping a little, and he let one finger slide down the cleft between her legs, slippery moisture coating the tip.

Belle moaned, pushing her hips forward a little, and he put his mouth to her, his tongue stroking through her flesh, her flavour bursting over his tongue.  He groaned, fingers sinking into the soft flesh of her buttocks, his tongue sweeping through her folds.  She tasted incredible, and he licked at her hungrily, inhaling the scent of her arousal, musky and sweet.  Her clit was hard and swollen, and he rubbed his tongue over it, pulling a whispered affirmation from her.

“ _Fuck_ , that’s hot!” he heard Rush whisper.

Belle let out a tiny giggle before moaning again, her fingers sinking into his hair, and he lifted her leg, draping it over his shoulder to give him better access.  She let out a cry as he pushed his tongue inside her, slipping it out to sweep over her clit.

“Oh, _God_ , yes!” she breathed.

He slid his hand up the back of her thigh to cup her buttock, squeezing as he licked her.  His other hand slid up her inner thigh, up to the hot, wet flesh that his face was buried in, up to where she was sticky and salty-sweet and her scent alone was making him hard enough to burst.  His tongue stabbed and swirled, his index finger slipping in between her folds to push inside her, and Belle let out a loud moan as it sank in up to the knuckle.

 _“Yes!”_ she whispered.  “Oh God, touch me!”

He began thrusting the finger in and out of her, pushing deep as his tongue swept over her, and Belle’s fingers twisted in his hair, tugging at it as she moaned, her heel digging into his back and pulling him closer.  He buried his nose in her, groaning long and low, sticky juices all over his face and in his hair, and he knew he would remember the scent of her, the taste of her, for all of time.  He could hear her breathing, rapid and shallow, could sense her body stiffening, and he let his finger slide and thrust, his tongue circling, grazing her clit.  Belle came with a high-pitched cry of pleasure, and he felt her cum run down his finger, bathing it in warm fluid.  He drew it out, her nectar spreading on his tongue as he licked at her, and she was shaking a little, somewhat off-balance with her leg wrapped around him.

Eventually he pressed a final kiss to her and drew back, letting her leg slip from his shoulder back to the floor as he sat back on his heels before pushing to his feet.  Belle had pressed her palms against the wall, her breasts rising and falling as she tried to steady her breathing, and he took a step back, running his eyes over her flushed cheeks and down between her legs, where her skin glistened with saliva and her own fluids.  She blinked at him somewhat sleepily, her eyes dark and hungry, and then reached out to take Rush’s hand, pulling him to her and turning to push him against the wall, her mouth finding his, her hands sweeping over his body.

Weaver went to take another drink, emptying his glass and pouring another.  There was water on the dresser, and he poured some of that, too, wetting his throat and swallowing her down.  He was covered in her scent, his face and hair sticky with her, and he was painfully hard, his jeans uncomfortably tight as he watched her plucking open Rush’s belt and pushing his jeans down over his hips.  The underwear followed, and Belle sank to her knees to take him in her mouth.  Weaver felt himself stir as she sucked, painted lips sliding along the hard shaft, and Rush groaned and let his fingers sink into her dark curls, his head rolling back against the wall with a dull thump.  Belle sucked at him, his cock slick with her saliva, and Weaver wanted to take himself in hand, to imagine her lips around him, pulling and sliding and making him see stars.

She ran her hands up Rush’s thighs, one of them gripping his cock at the base, thumb and forefinger curling around him to add some pressure.  Rush was gazing down at her, with dark eyes heavy with lust, his thin chest rising and falling rapidly as she sucked.  His hands were tangled in her hair, glossy curls wound around his fingers, and they locked eyes, his chest seeming to rise and fall in time with the movement of her mouth on him as she rocked back and forth.  Weaver could feel himself straining against the denim of his jeans, his need to touch her, to be inside her, almost painful.  He took another drink, whisky burning his throat, and Rush let out a low groan, his head rolling back again.

“Ah, _fuck_ , Belle!” he gasped.  “Fuck, sweetheart, that’s so good!  So good!  I can’t - I have to—”

He let out a loud, hoarse cry, his hips pumping a little, and Weaver could feel wetness in his underwear, hot seed leaking from the tip of his cock as he watched the other man come.  Belle’s cheeks hollowed around him, her hands gripping his thighs as she sucked, a low noise of pleasure coming from her as she drank him down, and Weaver set his glass aside as she pulled back to sit on her heels, Rush’s softening cock slipping from her mouth as he sagged against the wall.  Belle turned her head, breathing heavily, a smile quirking her lips as she met Weaver’s eyes.  There was a shining trail of fluid on her lower lip, and her tongue slipped out to clear it.  He swallowed hard.

“Well,” she said.  “You still have clothes on.  Let’s see what we can do about that.”

She pushed to her feet, walking towards him with swaying hips, and he ran his eyes over her curves as she dropped down onto her heels and pulled open the laces to his shoes, taking them off one by one and hooking a finger over his socks to tug them off.  He felt his bare toes sink into the thick rug, and Belle rose up, sliding her hands up his legs as she straightened.  She reached for his belt, locking eyes with him as she tugged it open, and plucked at the fly of his jeans.  He brushed her curls back from her face, one hand stroking the smooth curve of her cheek, his head moving closer, ready to kiss her, and Belle looked up at him through thick, dark eyelashes.

“Are you ready?” she whispered, and cupped him with a hand, feeling the length of him through the jeans.  A wicked little smile made her eyes gleam.  “Feels like it to me.”

She raked her nails along the ridge of his cock through the denim, making him growl at the sensation, and his hand tightened in her hair, his mouth reaching for her, his lips pushing hers apart.  Belle let out a hum of pleasure, getting his fly open, pushing the jeans down.  He stepped out of them, and she ran her hands over his rear as they kissed, squeezing him firmly before sliding her thumbs beneath the waistband of his boxers.  His hands cupped her, thumbs rubbing over her nipples, and Belle moaned, breaking the kiss and pressing into his hands as she pushed the underwear down over his hips so that he could kick it off at his feet.  She was breathing hard as she gripped him, her hand curling around him, the thumb sweeping over the head of his cock and spreading the bead of fluid that had formed, and he groaned at the feel of it.  Belle licked her lips, and looked across at Rush, who was watching them intently.

“Bed,” she whispered.  “And get out some things.  Lube, and some of the toys.  Maybe a bullet.”

She turned her head back to Weaver, who still had his fingers twined in her hair.  He loosened them a little, and she ran the tip of her tongue across the opening of her lips, staring at him.

“Do you want me to go down on you?” she whispered, in a low voice that shot straight to his groin, and he ran a thumb over her lower lip.

“It’s been a long time,” he said.  “I don’t think I’d last.”

Belle sucked his thumb into her mouth, and he groaned, feeling the heat and softness of her tongue against him, imagining how it would feel to have her mouth around his cock.  She let the thumb slip out again, running her tongue over the tip.

“Maybe later, then,” she said.  “We have all night.  Come to bed.  I want you inside me.”

She took his hand in hers, pulling him with her, and he watched as she climbed onto the canopied bed next to Rush, leaning over to kiss him deeply.  He was lying back against the pillows, and had taken off his glasses.  Belle stroked a hand down his body, to where his cock lay against his belly in a semi-aroused state.

“Recovering?” she whispered, and Rush smiled at her, eyes crinkling.  

“Give me ten minutes, woman, for fuck’s sake!”

She giggled, kissing him, and Rush stroked his hands over her curves, squeezing and fondling.  Weaver climbed onto the bed on her other side, glancing at the items Rush had taken from the bag.  A bottle of lube, a gold bullet vibrator and a dildo in bright pink silicone.  Belle gave Rush a final kiss and turned over, lying on her back and shifting a little to get comfortable.  She glanced at Weaver.

“Use some of the lube on me,” she said softly.  “And then I want you to fuck me.”

His hands shook a little as he reached for the lube.  It was a pump-action bottle, the nozzle squirting white fluid onto his fingers, cool and slippery.  He rubbed it between thumb and fingers, noting the wet, silky feel of it, and squirted a little more.  Belle had drawn up her knees a little, and he shifted position, getting in between them, gazing down at the slick, deep pink flesh that waited for him.  He reached out with glistening fingers, spreading the lube along her folds, and Belle moaned at his touch, arching her back, eyes closed and lips parted.  He stroked his fingers along the length of his cock, spreading the last of the lube as he remembered the taste of her and how she had gripped him when he pushed a finger inside her.

He gritted his teeth, praying that he wouldn’t just spill himself within the first minute, and reached down to touch her again, sliding two fingers slowly inside her.  Belle moaned again, and he pushed the fingers in and out, his thumb flicking over her clit.

 _“Fuck!”_ breathed Rush from the side.

On glancing across, Weaver saw that he was hard again, one hand stroking along his shaft.  Idly, he wondered if he had had some chemical assistance on that front, and whether he was going to need some himself to keep going.  The thought made him want to grin.  He turned his attention back to Belle, who was staring at him through eyes dark with desire, and so he drew out his fingers, taking himself in hand and lining them up.  He let the head of his cock run along her folds, making her gasp, but she felt too good for him to want to tease her for long, and so he pushed into her, sliding deep, letting out a low groan of pleasure as he sank into her wet heat.

Belle drew up her knees, allowing him deeper, and he began to move, keeping to a slow rhythm, feeling her grip him as she tensed her muscles.  Rush had shifted closer, and Belle turned her head for his kiss, stroking a hand over his cheek, her thumb rasping against his stubble.  Rush slid a hand down to cup her breast, fingers squeezing the nipple, and Weaver thought he might burst at the sight of it.  He closed his eyes, bringing his focus back to what he was doing, hearing Belle’s little moans and feeling her all around him as he moved.

He felt Rush roll away a little, and opened his eyes to see the other man lying on his side close by, watching them.  Belle was gazing up at him, cheeks flushed and lips moist and swollen, and he let his upper body drop down a little, coming to rest on his forearms, the change of angle making him grind against her a little.

“Oh yes!” she breathed.  “Yes, that feels good!”

She lifted her hips a little, the movement letting him fill her, and he groaned at the sensation of soft flesh surrounding him.  He was thrusting deep, her slick walls sliding against him, tugging at him, and he could feel himself building towards climax, a wave of bliss rising up through his body.

_“Belle!”_

He spoke her name through gritted teeth, as though he were begging her permission for release, and she reached up to stroke his cheek, fingers brushing over his lips.

“Don’t come!” she said breathlessly.  “Not yet!  Please!”

Weaver slipped out of her with a groan that was part frustration and part arousal.  He rolled onto his back, his chest heaving, the urge to be inside her almost too much to bear, his balls aching, his body humming with sensations.  Rush had taken his place, pushing deep and making Belle moan in pleasure as he began to thrust, his hips grinding.  Weaver rolled onto his side, reaching over to turn Belle’s face to his so that he could kiss her, one hand reaching down to pluck at her nipple as his tongue slipped in between her lips.  Belle moaned into his mouth, her body moving in time with Rush’s thrusts, perspiration blooming on her upper lip.  He could taste salt on her, and he kissed her hard, reaching to the side for one of the toys she had suggested, a small, slim vibrator that gleamed gold.

Belle kissed him hungrily, and he sensed that she wanted him to use it, so he flicked the button at the end with his thumb, the vibrator emitting a loud, insistent buzz.  He let it trail down between her breasts, and Belle whimpered a little as it ran over first one nipple, then the other.  He drew it in a line down her belly, tracing a path to where she was wet.  Where she needed it.  Belle let out a cry as the vibrator touched her, and Weaver moved it back and forth through her folds with tiny thrusts, running over her tender flesh, grazing the sides of Rush’s cock where he plunged in and out of her.  Rush groaned, throwing his head back.

“Fuck, that’s good!” he said through his teeth.  “God, Belle, I’m not gonna last!”

“Don’t come!” she whispered.  “Not yet, I want more!”

“Jesus _fuck_!” gasped Rush, and pulled out of her, rolling off onto his back.

Belle grasped at Weaver’s shoulder, tugging at him, and he tossed the vibrator at Rush and got between her legs once more, taking himself in hand and sinking deep into her with a loud groan of pleasure.  She was slick and hot, and she moaned at the feel of him, lifting her knees a little to allow him deeper.  He watched her back arch, her breasts moving with the rise and fall of her breath, and Rush rolled onto his side, picking up the vibrator and rolling it over her nipples.  Belle moaned in pleasure, the tip of her tongue sweeping across her lips as Rush moved the vibrator down over her belly, down into the slippery heat between her legs.

Weaver could feel the sensations as the vibrator slipped through her wet flesh, running over her clit and brushing against his cock, making him grit his teeth.  He thrust into her, his hips circling, grinding against her, and Belle was panting, a flush covering her cheeks and spreading down into her chest.  Her lips were parted, her eyes closed, and she was moaning, tiny cries that grew in pitch until she let out a loud wail of pleasure as she came.  She clenched around him, gripping him tight, as though she wanted to pull him deeper inside, and it was almost too much to bear.  He felt hot fluids bathe his cock, running over the length of him, and he shook his head.

“Please, Belle!” he said urgently.  “Please!”

Her eyes flicked open, sleepy and heavy with lust, and she nodded.

“Come inside me!” she breathed.  “Deep inside me!”

He let go with a long groan, lights bursting in his head as he squirted inside her, his cock pulsing.  Goosebumps rippled over his skin, and Belle tightened around him, pulling every drop from him.  God, she felt incredible!  He tried to catch his breath, panting rapidly, his skin tingling from the power of his orgasm, and Belle stretched up to kiss him, her thighs gripping his hips.  She let her head drop back into the pillows, grinning up at him, and he shook his head, wondering if he was actually dreaming.

She patted his arm, and he slowly pulled out of her to roll onto his back and let Rush take his place.  He ran his hands over his face, feeling the flush on his skin, inhaling the scent of her on his fingers.  His heart was still thumping, his breathing ragged, but he calmed a little as he listened to Belle moan in pleasure.  Peering through his fingers, he could see that Rush was fucking her again, but his movements were slow, deliberate, the vibrator cast to the side as his hips ground against her.  Belle was gazing up at him, one hand stroking through his hair, locking eyes with him as they moved as one.  She mouthed an _I love you_ , and Rush did the same.  It was a touching and highly erotic thing to witness, and made him smile.  True love.  A beautiful thing, and one they had allowed him to be part of for the night.  Fuck it if he wasn’t getting sentimental.

Rush had quickened his pace, and Belle began to moan again, her body arching up off the bed as she neared climax.  Weaver watched her come, her cheeks red with exertion, her skin damp and shining as her mouth opened to let out a cry of bliss.  Rush followed her, thrusting deep with a low groan, his movements growing rapid as she pulled his seed deep inside her.  At last they slowed, gasping for breath, and Rush pulled out of her, rolling onto his back on her other side.

For a moment there was only the sound of heavy, uneven breathing, but then Weaver felt a touch at his hand as Belle fumbled to take it.  He squeezed her fingers, looking across at her, and she sent him a sleepy smile.

“That,” she said, “was _amazing_!”

“Can’t disagree,” he said, and she grinned.

“Would you be up for more?” she asked, her eyes glinting with mischief, and he let out a snort of amusement.

“Just - just give me a minute to recover.”

“Or thirty,” said Rush from her other side.  Weaver chuckled.

“Or thirty.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The second part to this, which is honestly just smut. And some food, I suppose. But mostly smut.

Rather unsurprisingly, Belle recovered first.

Weaver had managed to catch his breath, and was feeling relaxed and content.  If they carried on as they had begun he would probably ache for days, but he considered it a small price to pay.  Belle leaned across to kiss his cheek, giving him a cheeky grin, and then pushed herself off the bed. He watched her pad naked to the bathroom, her pert little rear twitching as she walked.  There was a moment of silence, and then the sound of running water. He ran his hands over his face and looked across at Rush, who had his eyes closed.

“You alright?” he asked, and Rush glanced at him.

“Recovering,” he said.  “Did you see where I put my drink?”

Weaver pushed up on his hands, glancing around the room.  There were bathrobes hanging in the opened wardrobe, and he got up to throw one at Rush and pull the other on, the soft towelling pleasantly warm against his cooling skin.  He found Rush’s half-drunk whisky, but decided to forgo his own in favour of a large glass of water, hastily drunk while standing at the dresser. He poured himself some wine instead of the whisky, and sat back down on the bed.  The water was still running in the bathroom, and there was a pleasant scent drifting through beneath the door. He eyed Rush.

“Did you take bloody Viagra or something?” he asked, and Rush smirked.

“Oh yes, didn’t I mention it?  Special occasions only, of course.”

Weaver grunted.  “Thought as much.”

“There’s some in the bag,” added Rush.  “Have one, if you want.”

“I’m thinking I might need it if I’m to keep at this pace.”  He took a drink of wine. “How long does she usually give you to recover?”

“I haven’t exactly timed it,” said Rush dryly.  “Besides, it sounds as though she wants to take a bath.”

“Well, that should give us a chance to rest,” acknowledged Weaver, and Rush smirked again.

“That’s what you think,” he said cryptically.  “I’d take one, if I were you.”

Grumbling under his breath, Weaver went to rummage in the black bag again, pushing aside toys and lube until he found a package of blue pills.  He popped one, drinking it down with some water.

“First time for everything, I suppose,” he said.

“Yes, well, get a girlfriend half your age and you’ll understand why I keep a supply,” said Rush dryly.

Weaver snorted, taking a mouthful of wine.

“Not much chance of that.”

“Hmm.”  Rush looked amused.  “You know, you should try socialising once in awhile.  It wouldn’t kill you.”

“Coming from you that’s fucking rich,” said Weaver, shooting him a look.  “I’m fairly certain that if you hadn’t met Belle at work you’d still be a miserable single bastard, and I’m also _completely_ certain that she had to practically throw herself at you before you took the bloody hint.”

Rush opened his mouth to protest, but shrugged in agreement.

“Fair point.”

“Plus,” Weaver went on. “The last time I went socialising I ended up agreeing to a bloody threesome.”

Rush snorted in amusement.

“Another fair point,” he said, taking a sip of his drink.  “Although you seem to be enjoying yourself.”

“Yes.”  Weaver sat back down on the bed, drawing his legs up and sipping his drink.  “Are you still okay with it? It’s not - I don’t know - too weird?”

Rush pondered the question, raking messy hair out of his eyes with one hand.

“It’s different,” he said finally.  “But I like watching her come.”

The bathroom door opened then, and Belle came out, letting out a cloud of perfumed steam.  She was wrapped in a towel, her hair tousled and her eyes gleaming with mischief, and she grinned at them both, her eyes flicking across to Rush.

“Get some bath toys,” she said.  “It’s big enough for three.”

She disappeared again, closing the door behind her, and Weaver shared a glance with Rush before setting down his wineglass and heading for the bathroom.  It was large, tiled in green marble shot with gold. The shower was a glass cube with brass fittings, the floor tiles dark grey. The bath itself was a large double-ended roll top tub, sitting on a pedestal with steam rising from it.  There were mounds of bubbles peeking up over the edge, and the air was scented with jasmine.

Rush entered next, carrying a number of toys in his hands: sponges and plugs and a set of plastic beads set in a curve in gradually-increasing sizes.

“Those will do nicely,” said Belle, and turned back to Weaver.  “You can get in first.”

She stepped over to him, stretching up on her bare toes to kiss him, her hands sliding over his chest.  His tongue pushed into her mouth, and she moaned a little, her body melting into his as his fingers slid into her hair.  Her hands pushed beneath the robe, sliding it over his shoulders and down his arms until it fell to the floor. She stopped to pick it up, running a hand up his thigh as she did so, her fingers tracing the shape of his balls and stroking over his cock, making it twitch.  He gasped at the sensations, and Belle rose up to face him, kissing him again, her lips warm and soft and wet before she drew back with hunger in her eyes.

“In the bath,” she whispered.

He stepped away from her, climbing into the tub and sitting down in the water with a sigh.  It was just hot enough to make his skin tingle, and he stretched his legs out while he could, sinking lower, the bubbles rising up over his shoulders and bursting in his ears with a fizzing noise.  Glancing to the side, he saw that Belle had stepped up to Rush and taken the toys from his hands.

“Oh good, you got the bath lube,” she said, turning to set everything down on the shelf next to the bath.  “Would you help me in?”

Rush plucked the towel from around her, tossing it aside before taking one hand and pulling her in for a kiss.  She let out a pleased murmur, pressing her body against him for a moment before pulling back, and he took her hand, helping her step into the tub.  Weaver shifted, sitting up a little, and she sat down between his legs as he drew up his knees, leaning back against his chest with a sigh. He ran his hands over her bare shoulders, scooping water over her and watching it run down over her pale skin, trailing bubbles.  His hands cupped her breasts, and Belle moaned as he squeezed her. One hand slid down between her legs, pushing into her folds, and she let out a cry of pleasure at his touch.

Rush took the other end of the tub, reaching over to the shelf and picking up one of the sponges.

“Try this,” he said.  “There’s a button in the middle if you squeeze it.”

Weaver took it, giving the thing a squeeze, his fingers finding the button.  One press, and it began vibrating, making him grin. He ran it over Belle’s left breast, slowly circling, and she moaned and arched up a little, her head rubbing against the side of his face.  Rush growled in approval, running his hands up her thighs and back down. Weaver moved the sponge to her other breast, stroking and rubbing, and then down over her belly to between her legs. Belle gasped, reaching up behind her head to touch his face, her fingers stroking over his cheek.

“That’s good,” she whispered.  “Oh God, that’s good!”

Weaver bent his head to kiss her ear, tugging at the lobe with his teeth and making her moan again.  He could see Rush in front of them, hands sliding down the length of Belle’s leg, lifting her foot out of the water.  Water dripped from her toes, foam running down her calf as he lifted the foot to his mouth to kiss it. Belle murmured happily, and Rush slipped her toe in between his lips, sucking hard.  Her murmur became a moan, and she shifted between Weaver’s legs, her rear rubbing against the hardening length of his cock. He growled against her ear, kissing down her neck and sinking his teeth into her, and Belle let out a tiny cry, her fingers tugging at his hair.

He was working the sponge against her with slow circular movements, and his other hand slid around to squeeze her breast again, thumb and forefinger plucking at the nipple.  She moaned, writhing against him, Rush’s lip sucking on her toes, his tongue sliding between them.

“That’s so good,” she whispered.  “So good!”

Weaver could hear her breathing quicken, her skin flushed and damp from the steam.  He drew his tongue up her neck, tasting the perfumed water on her, working in circles over her pulse point and making her whimper.  The hand on her breast moved down over her belly, sliding beneath the sponge, feeling it vibrate against his fingers as he pushed one inside her.  She was snug around him, slippery-wet with arousal, and she let out a tiny cry as he pushed deep, the sponge still rubbing over her folds. Weaver bit down into her neck and she came with a moan, jerking against his hand, gasping for breath as her body shook.  Rush ran his tongue over the underside of her foot and she arched upwards before falling back with a splash, bubbles rising up over her breasts.

Weaver clicked off the vibrating sponge, drawing out his finger and pressing a kiss to her neck.  Belle hummed contentedly, rubbing herself against him. He could feel his pulse throbbing in his throat, and he wasn’t sure if it was the heat of the water, or the pill taking effect.  He suspected a little of both. Belle turned her head to kiss him, smiling lazily as their lips parted.

“Can you use the beads on me?” she murmured.  “I’m gonna see if I can make his head spin.”

She jerked her head at Rush, who sent her a grin.

“I’m more than willing to be the test subject in this experiment.”

“Good,” said Belle, pushing herself upright on the sides of the bath.  “But it’s hardly an experiment. I’m working with hard data that I’ve painstakingly collected over the past two years.”

“And what are your findings?”

She straddled him, foam running down her back as she ran her hands over his chest.

“That riding you until you beg me to stop is kinda fun.”

“Is this how you two flirt?” asked Weaver dryly, and Belle giggled, glancing over her shoulder at him.

“Sorry, we’re both nerds.”

“So I see.”  He reached for the shelf, picking up the set of beads with one finger through the large plastic ring at the end.  “This what you want?”

“You’ll need the lube, too,” said Rush.  “Doesn’t wash off in water - well, not easily, anyway.”

“Oh yes.”  Belle turned a little, holding out her hand.  “Give me a squirt. Not too much, it goes a long way.”

Weaver squirted some lubricant onto her hand, and Belle rubbed it between fingers and thumb.

“Perfect,” she said, and turned her attention back to Rush.  “You ready?”

He grinned at her.  “Almost always.”

Weaver watched as Belle slid a hand down between them, and saw the moment that she touched him.  Rush let his head roll back with a groan, and Belle moved her hand slowly up and down.

“There,” she whispered.  “Is that good?”

“So good,” he breathed.

Belle shifted then, skin glistening with water, bubbles coating her hips as she lifted up a little to sink down onto him, and Rush let out a low groan of pleasure.  The sound of it made Weaver’s cock twitch in its semi-hard state, and he licked his lips as Belle began to move, rocking back and forth, scented bath foam trickling into the cleft of her buttocks.  Rush’s hands slid over her hips, the fingers digging in a little as he pulled her closer, and Belle let out a moan, glancing over her shoulder at Weaver. Her eyes had grown darker, her lower lip soft and moist, and he saw the tip of her tongue flicker across, her cheeks flushing with the heat.

“Come and get me, then,” she said softly.

Smirking to himself, he shifted forward, using the sides of the bath to push himself up so that he could kneel behind her.  He squirted a small amount of the lube onto his fingers, spreading slippery silkiness, and then reached for the plug formed of plastic beads, coating them with the lube and shifting closer to Belle.  She was still thrusting her hips in long, rhythmic movements, and he could see between her legs, where Rush was buried inside her. He used the tip of his finger to tease her back entrance, and Belle moaned, so he pushed the first and smallest of the little purple beads inside her.  Her moan became a brief, high-pitched cry, and she arched her back a little, wet curls sticking to her skin.

Weaver moved his other hand around to the front, sliding in between her folds, the lube making her flesh silky where Rush was deep inside her.  It felt incredible, and he growled a little, leaning forward to sink his teeth into her shoulder. Belle moaned again, and he pushed another bead into her, pulling a tiny cry from her.  His lips found her ear, and he felt her shudder as his breath caught it.

“Is that alright?” he whispered, and Belle nodded.

“Another!” she gasped.

He pushed a third bead inside her, fingers flicking at the plastic and sending jolts of sensation through her.  His fingers were sliding against her, feeling the hard nub of her clit, and Belle was shaking as she kept up her rhythm, Rush’s cock sliding in and out of her as she moved.  Rush reached up to cup her breasts, fingers plucking at her nipples, and Belle moaned loudly, her pace quickening a little.

“Fuck, sweetheart!” gasped Rush, his head rolling back again, and she made her thrusts longer, rising up out of the water and falling back against his body with a wet, slapping sound.

Weaver continued to rub at her, fingers flickering over her clit, and she turned her head, glancing at him with flushed cheeks, her breath coming hard.

“Another!” she whispered.

He pushed another bead into her, her body giving some resistance before it slid home, and Belle let out a low cry of pleasure.  He ran his tongue up her neck, tasting salt and the sweet headiness of jasmine. His teeth nipped at her ear.

“There’s one more,” he whispered.  “The biggest one. Do you think you can take it?”

Belle moaned something incomprehensible, and he flicked at the end of the toy once more, making her gasp and moan.

“I can push it inside you, Belle,” he rasped.  “Inside your tight little arse. Do you want me to?”

She nodded rapidly, and he gently pushed the bead against her, teasing her a little before it slid all the way in.

“Fuck, I can feel that!” groaned Rush.

Belle moaned, her hands sliding up Rush’s chest, her body leaning forward a little, and Weaver put his finger through the ring on the end of the set of beads, pulling and pushing in tiny movements, making her cry out.

 _“Fuck!”_ she gasped.  “God, that feels good!”

She was moving faster, and he shifted closer to her, rubbing at her as he worked the beads inside her.  He drew his tongue across her shoulder, biting down into her neck, and Belle let out a low wail that became a cry as she came, jerking in the bath, the water splashing around her.  Rush pushed up into her, letting out a ragged groan as he did so, and Weaver let Belle fall forward, her head hanging as she tried to catch her breath.

“Just - just give me a minute!” she gasped.  “I just need a minute.”

He was hard, his body thrumming with the need to get inside her, to pump into her, but he waited as she sucked in air, Rush’s hands stroking through her wet curls.  The two kissed, lips smacking together, Belle letting out pleased murmurs that made him want to smile. Eventually she pulled back, and his breathing quickened as she slowly lifted up off Rush, the beads still inside her, her legs shaking a little as she stood.

Weaver sat back in the water as she turned on the balls of her feet to face him, the bath foam sliding down her thighs into the water.  She was still breathing hard, her face flushed and her nipples hard and deep pink. He settled back a little, arms up on the sides of the bath as she stepped closer, and a lazy smile was on her face as she looked him over.

“Well, I can see that you’re ready,” she said, and slipped her feet either side of his legs, lowering herself onto him.

He had wondered if they would need more lube, but she sank down onto him with ease, slippery fluids letting him slide in all the way.  He groaned at the feel of it as she took him deep, and Belle bent her head to kiss him, her tongue gently stroking against his. Behind her, Rush moved in the water, sitting up and leaning forward to grasp the ring at the base of the set of beads.  Belle had started to move, and Weaver could feel the beads inside her, rubbing along the length of his cock through her slick walls. The sensations made him groan, his head rolling back, and Belle sat up a little, bracing herself on his belly with her hands as she rocked back and forth.

When he raised his head again, one of Rush’s hands had slid around to cup her breast, squeezing at her as she rocked and thrust.  She felt incredible: hot and wet and snug, and when her eyes flicked open to meet his he was almost left breathless by the beauty of her.  Perhaps Rush was right. Perhaps he needed to get out more.

Belle’s hands slid up his chest, her lips parting in a moan as Rush pressed up behind her.  Her touch was electric, her fingers sending jolts of sensation through Weaver as they swirled over his nipples, a little of the lube still on them.  Rush was kissing her shoulder, his stubble scraping across her skin as his lips pulled at her, his hair hanging in his face. Belle moaned as he kissed her neck, his hand squeezing her, and Weaver felt it as Rush started to move the beaded plug inside her, the beads sliding against the underside of his cock as Belle pushed back and forth.  It was almost too much: the feel of her around him, the pressure of the beads, the heat of the water and the way their bodies slipped and slid and _fucked_.

Her fingers squeezed his nipples, making him let out a low growl, and he could feel himself building to orgasm, his cock growing rigid, his muscles taut and his breath coming hard in his throat.  Belle quickened her pace, hips pumping, breasts bouncing, and he let go with a hoarse shout, white lights bursting in his head, feeling as though he was being pulled inside out through the balls as he squirted up inside her.  Belle moaned as she ground against him, gripping him tight as he pushed deep, and he let his head roll back with a gasp as his body jerked, his cock pulsing.

Belle stilled her hands, resting against his chest, her breathing unsteady, and as his body stopped tingling he opened one eye to look at her.  She had that mischievous grin on her face again.

“You okay?” she asked.

“I think you killed me,” he said wearily, and Rush chuckled.

“Yeah, she does that.”

Rush moved back, gently drawing the beads out of Belle and making her gasp.  He sat back in the water, and she lifted up, letting Weaver slip from her before reaching for the soap and working up a lather between her hands.  She washed the beaded plug, soaping and rinsing several times before laying it aside, and then worked up more lather, soaping her body. Weaver took the soap from her while she was washing, lathering up and using the soap to wash himself.  The lube came off after a couple of tries, and he tossed the soap to Rush.

The soap had made the bubbles disappear, and the water had lost a lot of its heat.  Belle stood up first, grasping Weaver’s hand before getting out of the tub. She dried off, wrapping a towel around her head before folding the large fluffy bath sheet around herself and padding into the other room.  Weaver looked at Rush, sitting at the other end of the bath with his knees up out of the water.

“So is she giving us time to recover, or what?” he asked, and Rush pulled a face.

“You might get ten minutes or so,” he said.  “She’s an insatiable minx when she wants to be.”

“I heard that,” came Belle’s voice from the bedroom, and Rush grinned.

“No rest for the wicked,” he remarked, and grasped the sides of the bath, pushing himself up.

By the time Weaver was out, the bath draining and the robe wrapped around himself once more, Belle and Rush had climbed onto the bed and were finishing their drinks.  Belle patted the space next to her, and so he grasped his half-drunk wine and slid onto the bed beside her. She glanced at him, sending him a brief smile, her cheeks still a little flushed.

“We thought we might have dinner,” she said.  “Are you hungry?”

“Actually I’m starving,” he admitted.  “What - were you thinking room service?”

“Oh no, we’ll go to the restaurant,” she said.  “I’ve been dying to eat in there. I read the menus before you came over and it all sounds _amazing_.”

“Alright.”  He took a sip of the wine.  “I’ll have this and get dressed.”

Belle nudged Rush.  “We should book a table.”

“A table for three,” he remarked.  “I’m sure that won’t raise any eyebrows.”

“How would they know we all just had sex?” she asked.  “This place doesn’t just host romantic couples, there are business guests as well.”

“The fact that you’ll probably feel us both up under the table will no doubt give it away,” he said, reaching for the phone.  “But it’s not as though I care what they think. A table for three, then.”

Belle grinned at him, and settled back into the pillows with a sigh, sipping her wine.  Her head turned towards Weaver.

“You okay?” she asked.  “Still having fun?”

“More than I expected to, actually,” he admitted.  “It’s - it’s been awhile. I thought I might be rusty.”

“Not from my perspective,” she said, her eyes gleaming.  “Maybe you should consider getting back out there. You have a lot to offer.”

He hesitated, but shrugged.

“Maybe,” he said.  “It’s not as though I’m totally opposed to the idea anymore.  I just need to find someone who doesn’t mind infrequent hours and the possibility of me calling off dates at the last minute because some arsehole decided to go on a murderous rampage.”

“Well, no one could call that unreasonable,” she said, and giggled when he shot her a look.

“The life of a detective doesn’t lend itself to building lasting personal relationships,” he said.

“Well, what about another detective?” she asked, and his mouth twisted.

“Clearly you haven’t met any of them,” he said, and she giggled again.

“You know, I could probably hook you up with someone,” she said.

“I believe we’ve had this conversation before,” he said dryly.  “Thank you, but the answer’s still no. I’d prefer to let these things take a natural course.”

Belle shrugged, and took a sip of her wine.

“The offer’s always there if you want it.”

Rush put down the phone, settling back against the pillows on Belle’s other side.

“I said half an hour,” he said.  “That okay?”

“Sounds good,” said Belle.  “Should give you two plenty of time to recover.”

She grinned wickedly, and Rush and Weaver shared a wry look.

* * *

Around twenty five minutes later, they made their way down to the restaurant.  Belle had discarded her torn blouse in favour of an elegant wrap dress the colour of rich red wine.  She wore gold heels with it, her lipstick matching the colour of the dress, and linked her arms with Weaver and Rush as they walked.

“I was hoping we’d get to eat in the restaurant,” she said happily.  “I’ve been reading over the menus and drooling for weeks now.”

“Well, I suppose if we’re going all out for your birthday, then bankrupting me really is the way to go,” said Rush dryly, and Belle stuck out her tongue.

“You know we can afford it,” she chided.  “I won’t be doing this again, remember?”

“Then we make the most of it,” he agreed, and kissed the side of her forehead, making her beam at him.

The restaurant was softly lit, quiet piano music creating an intimate atmosphere, and they were taken to their table by a smiling waitress.  The food, when it arrived, was beautifully presented, and Weaver ate things he’d never tried before. Raw oysters swallowed whole from their half-shells that tasted of the ocean, sweet, plump scallops pan-fried with crisp, salty prosciutto and served with crushed peas and mint.  And then there was rich beef fillet with red wine sauce that was so tender it almost melted in the mouth. Belle held up a piece of chicken on her fork, raising an eyebrow, and he took it from her, savouring the earthy flavour of truffle and rich cream laced with brandy. She kissed him, and he could taste the sauce on her tongue.

“The old couple on the table by the mirror is sending us very curious looks,” remarked Rush, and Belle turned to kiss him too.

“That should stop them wondering,” she said.

Weaver snorted in amusement, but his chuckle turned into a low growl as Belle ran a hand up the inside of his thigh beneath the table.  He clenched his jaw, feeling himself harden as her finger trailed patterns over his crotch, running over his balls through the denim, scraping along the length of his cock.  He shot her a look, and Belle gave him a sweet, wide-eyed smile full of innocence.

“I know that look,” said Rush dryly.  “Whatever you’re doing under the table, remember that we have to walk upstairs at some point.  In public.  Raging boners are hard to disguise.”

Belle’s fingers slipped away, rubbing over Weaver’s thigh, and he missed her touch even though his jeans were uncomfortably tight.  Belle leaned closer to Rush, her other hand disappearing beneath the table, and Weaver grinned as his eyebrows shot up.

“Maybe if I can get a matching pair it won’t be so noticeable,” she said, in a low voice, and stretched across to kiss Rush.  When their lips parted he was breathing heavily, and she was grinning at him.

“You’re a bloody minx,” he whispered, and her grin widened.

“Just making sure you’ll be ready for the after-dinner show,” she teased, and kissed him again before sitting back and turning to her food with an expression of bland innocence that Weaver didn’t believe for a second.

Dessert, when it came, was a trio of rich confections: a bitter chocolate fondant with blood orange cream, baked vanilla cream with delicate butter almond tuiles, and a rich parfait with black cherries.  Belle opened her mouth for a spoonful of the parfait, closing her lips around the spoon and drawing it out slowly, a smear of cream on the silver. She closed her eyes, a tiny moan coming from her at the taste of it, and Rush grinned widely.

“I’m beginning to think we should have taken this upstairs,” he remarked, and Belle’s eyes widened as she swallowed.

“Good idea!” she said excitedly.  “Let’s ask if we can get this to go.”

Ten minutes later, Weaver was carrying the remaining half of the dessert in a small cardboard box, Belle clutching his other hand and Rush on the other side of her.  The glass of wine she had drunk had made her light-headed and wonderfully giggly, and he squeezed her hand as he steered her through the hotel lobby towards the elevators.  Rush pressed the button with his index finger, and Belle stretched up on her toes to kiss him, sucking his earlobe into her mouth.

“I hope you two have recovered,” she murmured.  “I have plans.”

“Do you?”  He kissed her back.  “I’m glad to hear it.”

There was a muted ping as the elevator doors opened, and a man stepped out, carrying a black leather holdall.  Weaver recognised him as the man he had taken the elevator up with some hours earlier. He was as immaculately dressed as before, the light gleaming on the silk of his shirt and tie, but his hair was a little messier and he looked tired.  His eyebrows lifted as he saw Belle clutching the hands of the two men with her, but to his credit he didn’t say anything.

“Enjoy your evening,” he said in a dry tone, a trace of an accent in his voice.

He stepped past them and headed for the hotel doors, black leather bag swinging from one hand.  Belle watched him go.

“Now, there’s a man who knows how to wear a suit,” she said, with an approving nod.

“Don’t be greedy,” said Rush firmly, putting his hands on her shoulders and steering her into the elevator as she giggled.

The room was pleasantly warm when they opened the door, and Rush locked it and fastened the chain as Weaver put the cardboard box with the cherry parfait on the nightstand.  Belle turned on the toes of her shoes, the skirt of her dress flaring outwards as she looked from one to the other. Fingers strayed to the thin ribbon tying her dress shut, plucking at the little bow at her waist.

“Well then,” she said, her eyes gleaming.  “Who wants to unwrap me?”

Rush and Weaver shared a look, and Rush shrugged, bending to tug off his shoes.

“You can start,” he said.

Weaver turned to Belle, stepping forward to run his hands over her hips.  She glanced up at him, catching her lower lip in her teeth, her eyes wide, her breathing uneven.  He reached up to pull the pins from her hair, working his fingers through the curls to separate them as they tumbled around her shoulders.  Belle’s lips had parted, full and dark and stained with wine-coloured lipstick, glistening from a quick, furtive sweep of her tongue. He reached up to stroke his fingers over her cheeks, his thumb swiping across her lower lip and feeling its softness before pulling it down.  Belle sucked his thumb into her mouth, soft, wet heat closing up around him, and he let out a low growl of pleasure at the feel of her, moving closer, his thumb slipping out as he grasped her cheeks with one hand and bent his head to kiss her.

She slid her hands up over his chest, opening her mouth as he pushed his tongue inside, and Belle moaned, pressing herself against him until he felt the swell of her breasts against his chest.  His free hand slid down into the curve of her back, pulling her close, sweeping easily over her curves, and from the smooth feel beneath his palm he suspected that she wasn’t wearing underwear. Well, that would be something to explore.

His tongue stabbed into her mouth as his hands roamed her body, cupping and squeezing, and his fingers found the tie at her waist, tugging it open.  The dress was opened up, revealing her perfect, pale nakedness, and he let out a low rumble of pleasure as she was exposed to him, her skin still marked where his mouth had sucked at her in their first encounter.  Rush had stepped up behind her, his hands stroking up over her shoulders, and he peeled the dress from her to expose her fully, pulling it down her arms and leaving her in nothing but the strappy gold sandals she wore.

Weaver kissed down her neck, his hands cupping her breasts before he put his mouth to her and sucked, tongue swirling over her nipples.  Belle moaned, raking his hair with her fingers, and he kissed across to the other breast before sinking to his knees, his mouth trailing down over her belly.  Belle sucked in a breath as he slid his hands over her hips, squeezing her buttocks. She let out a moan, and he glanced up, seeing that Rush was kissing her neck, his mouth sucking on her pulse point, hair brushing her skin.  Rush’s hands moved around her, stroking the pale curves of her breasts, teasing the nipples, and Belle let out a tiny cry as he squeezed her. It made Weaver’s cock throb, already hard and straining in his jeans, and he turned his attention back to her body, running the tip of his nose along the sensitive skin at the crease of her thigh, across the softness of her mound to the other side.

Belle’s feet shuffled a little, twisting on their toes, her legs opening a fraction, and he ran his lips over her skin, breathing in the sweet, faintly musky scent of her.  His nose nudged at the cleft between her legs, and he heard her gasp, her hands dropping to stroke through his hair. He exhaled, his breath rolling over her skin, and heard her suck in a shuddering breath.  He could sense her anticipation, and he pressed a kiss to her, inhaling deeply and drawing her scent into his nose. The tip of his tongue slipped out, just grazing her, and Belle let out a tiny squeak.

Weaver grinned to himself, hands tightening on her buttocks as he nudged her with his nose again.  This time his tongue slipped out fully, gently pushing between her folds, and Belle moaned as he slowly swept it through her flesh.  She was already wet, and he groaned at the taste of her, his tongue circling her clit. Glancing upwards, he could see that Rush was still plucking at her nipples, his tongue stroking up her throat, and Belle was breathing heavily, her head rolling back.  Weaver slid a hand behind her leg, hooking it over his shoulder, opening her up to allow his tongue more access, and her fingers tightened in his hair as she moaned.

He reached up, sliding his thumb along the wet folds, and pushed it into her as he licked, making her let out a tiny cry of pleasure.  The thumb slid deep inside, her velvet walls gripping him tightly, and his cock twitched again with his need to be inside her, to feel her clench around him, to fuck her hard and hear her scream.  His tongue flickered over her, the rhythm steady, and he could feel the muscles of her inner thigh twitching against his cheek, her body rocking against him as he worked her. Belle let out a whimper, her nails scraping his scalp, and he licked and thrust, his thumb slippery with her juices.  She came with a loud cry, and he groaned in pleasure, sucking the cum from her as she jerked against him, the heel of her shoe scraping against his back. He could hear Rush groaning, and he glanced up to see the other man’s hands cupping Belle’s breasts, the nipples hard and dark from his attentions.

Weaver pressed a final kiss to her and sat back on his heels, letting her leg slip from his shoulder.  He wiped her fluids from his face, inhaling the scent of her, and looked up. Belle’s eyes were closed as she tried to catch her breath, and he pushed to his feet, taking off his shoes and socks, hands dropping to the buckle of his jeans.

“Yes!”  Belle’s whisper made him look up, and she was staring at him.  “Take them off. Both of you, take them all off and get on the bed.”

She turned to Rush, kissing him deeply, her hands plucking at the buttons of his shirt, and Weaver began undressing, draping his jeans over the end of the bed and shrugging off his shirt.  By the time he climbed onto the bed, Rush was also shirtless, and Belle kissed him and turned away, walking towards the bed naked, her hips swaying as she moved. Weaver watched her with hungry eyes as she crawled onto the blankets beside him, messy curls bouncing around her shoulders.  He reached to the side and opened up the little cardboard box holding their dessert.

“Lie back,” he said, and Belle grinned, rolling onto her back.

The parfait was smooth and cool, rich with cream and laced with kirsch.  He stuck a finger into it, bringing out a blob of creamy perfection, and Belle moaned as he spread it over a nipple.  A droplet of white ran over the curve of her breast, glistening in the light, and he watched it make a thick trail against her pale skin before bending to run his tongue over it.  Sweetness burst on his tongue, and he sucked the nipple into his mouth, making her gasp.

“The perfect way to eat dessert,” said Rush, climbing on beside him.

Weaver held up the box, allowing Rush to scoop out a blob of cream and spread it on Belle’s other nipple.  They sucked her together, Rush’s hand snaking down between her legs to finger her, and Belle moaned aloud, pushing against his hand.  Weaver hooked a cherry out of the parfait, holding it between finger and thumb and rubbing it over her lips. Her tongue flickered out to lick it, dark, sticky fruit coated in cream, glistening from her saliva, and he teased her with it, running it over the insides of her lips, slipping it inside before trailing it around the opening to her mouth.  Her tongue darted out again, licking the cream from his fingers, and he grinned and let her take the cherry from him, sucking it into her mouth and chewing it with sounds of enjoyment.

He kissed her then, tasting sweet cream and cherry on her tongue, his hands sliding over her smooth skin.  She moaned into his mouth, and he drew back, rolling onto his side as Rush kissed his way down over her belly to bury his head between her legs.  Belle arched her back with a cry, wrapping her legs around his head, and Rush let out a low groan, his hands digging into her hips as he licked at her.  Weaver watched her, eyes closed with dark lashes lying in crescents beneath them, lips parted as she panted, a flush rising in her cheeks. He saw the moment that she came, a high-pitched cry bursting from her throat, her body jerking against the bedclothes, perspiration gleaming on her skin.  He reached down to take himself in hand, his cock hard and straining, fluid already starting to leak from the end. Belle turned sleepy eyes on him as Rush began kissing his way back upwards, and she reached out to touch Weaver’s hand, wrapped around his cock.

“Let me do that,” she whispered.  “Lie back. Up against the pillows.”

He loosened his grip, rolling onto his back and boosting himself up on the heels of his hands to settle against the pillows.  He watched as she kissed Rush, humming in contentment. Their lips parted, and Belle smiled up at him.

“Take me from behind,” she whispered.

She kissed him once more before turning to Weaver and crawling over, getting between his legs and supporting herself on the heels of her hands.  She straddled him, sliding up a little way, the wet heat of her core against his belly. Rush had reached to the nightstand to get the bottle of lube, and Weaver heard the squirt of fluid as Belle kissed him, her tongue hot and sweet.  Her mouth pulled at his, and she leaned in, resting her forehead against his, her breath cool against his lips. Her eyes were wide and dark with lust, and she licked her lips, her fingers in his hair, sending shivers through him.

“I want you in my mouth,” she whispered, in a low voice that went straight to his groin.  “I want to wrap my tongue around you and suck you hard.”

 _“Fuck!”_ he gasped, and she brushed her lips against his, her breath quickening.

“I want to feel you hit the back of my throat,” she breathed.  “I want you to come in my mouth. Squirt it all into me.”

“ _Jesus_ , Belle!”

“I want to feel it running down my throat,” she said, her hips rocking back and forth in her arousal.  “I want to swallow it all down, and taste you on my tongue.”

Too aroused to speak, he let his hand sink into her hair, twisting the curls as he kissed her hard, and Belle moaned, wet flesh rubbing back and forth over his belly.  She shifted a little, breaking the kiss, and he released her hair, breathing heavily as she moved backwards on hands and knees, kissing her way down his body. Her breath was hot against his skin, and he felt her lips brush his cock, sending a jolt of sensation through him.  Her eyes flicked up to meet his, and she licked her lips. His heart was thudding in his chest, and his hands dropped to fist in the sheets as she slowly drew her tongue up his length.

“ _Fucking_ hell!” he spat through gritted teeth, and Belle grinned.

“That's a promising reaction,” she teased.

Rush had knelt up behind her, and Weaver watched him reach between her legs, his fingers glistening with lube.  Belle closed her eyes with a moan of pleasure as he touched her.

“Losing your concentration, sweetheart?” he asked, and she glanced over her shoulder.

“Just get in me, I’ve got this.”

Rush grinned at that, and shifted a little, hands on her hips.  Weaver saw the moment he entered her, Belle’s head rising up with a moan, and Rush letting out an answering growl of pleasure.  Belle sucked in a breath, eyes closed, but then seemed to steady herself, looking up at him.

“Okay,” she whispered, and bent her head to him.

She kissed him, the tip of her tongue flickering over the end of his cock to catch the bead of fluid that had formed, and he groaned as she caught the head between her lips, taking him deep inside.  She moaned as Rush thrust into her, his hands sliding up her back and back down to grasp her hips. Weaver felt himself hit the back of her throat, soft flesh closing up around him, rubbing against him and making him see stars.

“Fuck, that’s good!” he gasped.

Belle looked up at him, saliva running down her chin as she sucked him.  She winked, her cheeks hollowing around his cock, and he groaned again, stroking her hair back from her face, glancing up at Rush as he thrust into her.  Belle was moaning, rocking back and forth as she sucked at him, and he could feel himself nearing climax, heat rising up through his body, his skin tingling.  Rush had quickened his pace, his muscles taut with strain, hair sticking to his face, and Belle was sucking hard, her eyes fixed on his, her hands sliding up his chest to pinch at his nipples.  Weaver groaned at the sensations, and his eyes flew wide open as he felt himself near his peak.

“Belle, I’m gonna come!” he gasped.  “I can’t - I can’t help it!”

She sucked harder, as though his words were encouragement, and he came with a long, low groan, his cock pulsing, spurting into her mouth.  She moaned, swallowing, her throat closing up around him as she took it all, and he tried to see past the colours bursting in his head to watch her.  His body was tingling, his skin humming, and he jerked and thrust as she pulled every drop from him. Dimly, he was aware of Rush groaning as he fucked her hard, and Belle finally let him slip from her mouth, rising up on the heels of her hands with a loud moan of pleasure as Rush quickened his pace.

“Oh yes!” she gasped.  “God, that’s it! Come for me, love!  Come hard!”

He thrust into her, making her rock back and forth, one hand rubbing at her between her legs, and threw his head back with a harsh groan of pleasure as he came.  Belle moaned, bucking her hips, and Weaver watched as they rode out their pleasure, sweat making their skin shine. Eventually they slowed and stopped, and Rush let himself fall forward, kissing Belle’s shoulders as they tried to catch their breath, his hair brushing her back.

Belle raised her head, catching Weaver’s eyes with hers, and sent him a lazy smile.

“You okay?” she asked, and he nodded.

“I think so.”  He tapped the top of Rush’s head with a finger.  “Are you okay?”

“No, I’m fucking dead,” came the muffled response, and Belle giggled.

“Well,” she said.  “Best. Birthday present. Ever.”

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Small World](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15315087) by [Emospritelet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emospritelet/pseuds/Emospritelet)




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